Sharing Beds, Call Cuts, Strangleholds, & Colds
by Alex L. Kerr
Summary: Four short stories featuring Sam & Dean as adults sharing a bed, dropping each other's calls, talking about getting strangled, and dealing with colds. Mild language.


_Writer's Note: Sick of angst, drama & h/c after completing my last story, so here are some good moments that could've happened whenever…~Alex Kerr_

Sharing Beds with Adult Siblings

The rain was torrential, absolutely wrathful, outside. Sam and Dean had been in the Impala for the beginning of it and had immediately turned off to the nearest motel that held a vacancy sign. Worried about flooding, hydroplaning (which actually happened before they could get off the road), and general debris in the midst of the tornado-like winds, they had both grudgingly took the only room available – one with only a king-sized bed. They'd asked for a cot, and it was there in the room, but the bed was also the only place in which to relax and watch television when you weren't actually sleeping.

So, Sam had pulled out his computer and hung out on one side of the bed while Dean settled himself on the other. It was a comfortable distance; wasn't that weird, and Dean just watched tv as Sam multitasked, using the internet and absentmindedly watching Dr. Sexy MD. It wasn't a terrible show, Sam acknowledged lightly, inwardly.

The howling wind seemed only to pick up in strength, the rain pouring in what felt like waves over the small motel roof. Neither of the brothers flinched much at it, but it did drown out the tv sounds occasionally until the volume was turned up as high as possible so they wouldn't miss the dialogue. The internet eventually cut out – no signal was to be had. The electricity stayed on, though. Sam sighed and shut his computer. Dean turned to him.

"What?"

"Signal just cut out."

"You goin' to bed?"

Sam and Dean had agreed that the person going to bed first would have to sleep on the cot. Neither of them anticipated that this would turn into a who-can-stay-up-the-latest competition, but maybe they should have.

"No, no, I'll just watch the show," Sam replied, resettling himself after setting the computer down on the floor and under the bed. He didn't actually feeling like sleeping, but he wasn't going to lie: he didn't really want to sleep on the cot.

Sam rested against his pillows and watched the show. The wind and rain rumbled through the motel and Dean's calm, still presence was within a foot of him. The volume that was turned up so high on the television became more and more distant as Sam slowly started to drift.

Dean laughed at something.

"That was pretty good, right-" Dean asked, and looked over to his brother. Immediately, his shoulders dropped in disappointment.

"You fell asleep," Dean stated in a normal voice to Sam, seeing if he could wake him up with his normal voice. But Sam was out cold. Dean sighed and looked at the cot, then his brother. He wasn't keen about moving onto the cot, and he didn't want to be an asshole and wake Sam up to tell him to go to the cot. Dean knew Sam wouldn't even fit on it (nor would he have, really). Dean rolled his eyes and pulled the folded bedspread at the foot of the bed up and over Sam. Dean got under the actual sheets of the bed and settled further down into the pillows on his side. _Whatever_, he thought, and turned off the bedside lamp, leaving only the television screen's bluish light to dance over the small room. Dean turned down the sound of the television a little bit and readied himself for sleep.

Within 5 minutes, Dean was snoring peacefully.

_1 hour later…_

"Dean, turn the damn television _off_! _NOW!" _Sam yelled in his sleep. Dean kind of jumped with the shock of Sam's voice being so close to him and so _loud_. He looked over at his brother with a terrorized expression on his face.

"What the _hell_, Sam? You just woke me up for that? Turn it off yourself, Jesus…" Dean replied, groggy, as he moved over to the nightstand to reach for the remote. He turned off the tv and back to Sam.

"Happy?" Dean asked, annoyed. Looking at Sam again, he realized that his brother had been talking in his sleep. _Unbelievable, _Dean thought, and promptly fell back asleep.

_2 Hours Later…_

The storm was still raging outside and something jolted Dean awake in the middle of the night.

He glanced at the digital clock: 1:27 am. The TV was off and it was black as pitch in the motel room. It

took two seconds to realize it had been a flash of lightning so bright that the whole room had lit up. Sam was sleeping on his stomach, but Dean was on his back and had picked up on the split-second flood of light.

Suddenly thunder cracked right over them. It felt like the sky was breaking immediately above them, crashing and cracking multiple times over. Both Sam and Dean reacted, their reflexes jumping. Dean, who'd already been awake, had his hands against his ears as he felt the motel room shuddering.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed.

"Shit!" Sam's hazy yell penetrated through the pillow his face was lying against. Both of them had shrunk their bodies in the bed in the midst of the uproar.

The thunder died down, with the rain slamming back against the motel walls with renewed force. Sam and Dean were motionless for a second until Dean looked down - Sam had reflexively grasped his brother's t-shirt during the thunder and Dean had reacted by covering his hand over his brothers. Realizing Dean was still grasping Sam's hand, he shoved it off him. Sam pulled in.

"Dude," Dean said, smiling.

"Shut up," Sam replied, groggily, and turned around to go back to sleep. Dean chuckled and turned his back against Sam's as well. Sam fell back asleep smiling.

_2 More Hours Later…_

Dean shivered in his sleep, and slowly came to. _Oh god, seriously?_ He thought as he looked at the clock. The clock read 3:30 am. He felt genuinely _cold_ right now, and reached behind him for more covers. He moved his hand over his waist and realized that he had none to begin with. Realizing his brother was sharing a bed with him, his mind clicked into gear and with the fast, irritated movement that comes from waking up angry, Dean lifted up and looked over to see Sam had rolled the blankets into himself while he was sleeping.

"Sam, Sam!" Dean yelled at his brother. He saw his brother's head move, waking up with a start at his brother's call.

"Yeah?" Sam said on his side, not moving.

"Sam unroll so I can get some blankets," Dean replied with vehemence.

"What? Oh…" And Sam slowly turned around, detangling himself from the blankets and sleepily giving his brother back one of them. Dean snatched it from his brother's hand and Sam, still more asleep than awake, dropped his hand back and settled. Dean covered himself in the blanket and tried to fall back asleep.

_1 Hour Later…_

Dean gasped in pain, eyes shooting open in confusion, grabbing the knife under his pillow instinctively. Something had _nailed_ him in the base of his spine.

Dean whipped around in bed and realized it'd been Sam's knee - he was dreaming. Dean loosened the knife in his hand, but didn't let go as he whispered swears in exhausted fury at his brother. He leaned over to look at the clock again. 4:30 am, and the light of dawn, Dean knew, was going to break soon.

He turned back at the sound Sam was making – he was trying to speak out loud in his dream, his face the expression of pain, and he gave a reflexive kick under the covers again – this time thankfully not against Dean. At the same time he kicked, he angled his face swiftly towards Dean, as if dodging something and raised his hand. Dean dropped his anger and grimaced as he grasped Sam's wrist and placed another against Sam's chest.

"Sam… Sam wake up, Sam, you're dreaming, dude," Dean spoke calmly in a normal voice as he shook his brother. Sam started, opening his eyes to see Dean's face immediately in front of him.

"Uh.. Ah!" Sam exclaimed, shocked to see Dean's face so close to him. Immediately Sam's body relaxed.

"You okay?" Dean asked, sort of concerned.

"Yeah, sorry…" Sam coughed. "Sorry about that…" He muttered as he turned back around to go back to sleep.

"Yeah," Dean replied, and settled back down against his back.

_11 am_

Dean woke up to the smell of coffee and checked to see if Sam was still next to him. He wasn't. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief and stretched his whole body out across the bed, turning over onto his stomach.

"Hey- You finally up?" Sam asked, walking into the bedroom from the kitchen with a mug of coffee. He had set up his computer in the kitchen and had been working there for the past 3 hours.

Rolling his eyes, Dean grunted lamely.

"Wake up. You've been sleeping for forever. I think I got something…"

Dean turned his head tiredly to look at Sam bitterly. Sam didn't see Dean's expression, though, as he had just moved back to look at something on his computer.

Dean jutted his chin and gave a disgusted grimace at his brother and fell back against the pillows.

"Dean!" Sam yelled.

"What? Okay!" Dean got up and stood up. Sam came out carrying a mug of coffee for his brother. He handed it to him as he motioned for him to come sit down at the small kitchen table and Dean grudgingly followed. They sat down and Dean took a sip of the coffee; he appreciated that Sam made it the way Dean preferred it.

"You know what's weird?"

"What?"

"You sleep with your eyes open – s'really freaky," Sam answered genuinely.

Dean looked at Sam with an _are-you-serious?_ Expression, and pointed to the king-sized bed in the other room.

"We are never doing that _ever_ again."

Cell Phones

Dean sat in the driver's seat of the parked Impala, staring at the well-manicured lawn and freshly painted suburban two-story on the corner of Oak and Lincoln. He saw the upstairs bedroom door open – Jenny McCoy's bedroom. Single mom; two kids, haunted by their belligerent ungle, Jenny's wayward brother, who had given up the ghost recently. _Well,_ Dean thought, _didn't exactly give it up, did he?_ Just as he was thinking about how that terrible turn of phrase provides a false sense of security for people, Dean's phone rang. Sam.

"Yeah," Dean answered, looking back up to the master bedroom. Jenny was getting ready for bed. Kids were probably already tucked in. Dean glanced at the clock and confirmed – past most kids' bedtimes, yeah.

"Hey, it's done."

"Okay great," Dean responded, reaching for the ignition. "Meet you back at the motel."

"Yeah.. Hey, Dean... Wait."

Dean halted mid-action.

"What?"

"You sure this is done?"

"No. We're never sure, Sammy," Dean asked, peeved. There was a beat of silence from Sam. "Why you think I should stick around?" Dean pressed.

"Yyyeah I do," Sam replied, kind of indecisive, but still willing to put it out there.

Dean let go of the ignition key.

"Okay. I'll be here," Dean sighed.

"It's just that I just got off the phone with Jenny and-"

"Wait you talked to her?"

"Yeah- just to let her know she was safe…"

"Sam, you didn't talk to Jenny. I've been watching her the past 10 minutes – she's in the bedroom. Hasn't been on the phone at all."

"Dean I _swear_ I spoke-" As Dean listened to Sam, he moved to get out of the car and started walking to the house, "-to her. She said she was ready to move on, now that everything's in order."

"In order?" Dean asked, trying to recall if that was something Jenny had said her brother said often or not…

"Yeah… Dean!" Sam added, stressed, "Dean she said that she was leaving to go put the kids down!"

Dean hung up the phone and started racing to the front door. He banged on the door and the porch lights immediately lit up in front of him as Jenny had heard and started her way downstairs to get to Dean. Dean's phone rang again and Dean picked up.

"What?"

"Did you get that? Get the kids!" Sam yelled over the phone.

"Yeah, I got it, Sam!" Dean yelled at him.

"Okay I thought you'd cut out-," Sam replied, defensive. Dean rolled his eyes as he hung up on his brother again as the door opened to reveal an alarmed Jenny.

"Jenny where're the kids we gotta get them!" Dean yelled at her as he brushed his way past her to the kids' room.

Sam got another beep against his ear and saw Dean had hung up on him again. He looked around the empty cemetery, exhausted from having dug up the brother's grave, and flipped his phone closed with a frown.

Strangulation

Dean slammed the Impala door shut and jammed his keys into the ignition to start up the Impala. He looked over to his brother, who was massaging his neck, and put the car in gear.

"You all right?"

"Mm yeah…" Sam said, wincing. He bent down to grab the bottle of water left in the seat well. He took a few sips and, as the Impala hit a heavy pothole, water splashed against Sam's face. Sam gave a huff of surprise, removed the bottle from his mouth and wiped his face.

"Sorry," Dean muttered.

"Why does every monster want to _strangle_ me…?" Sam mumbled to himself in exasperation. Dean heard and immediately reacted, having been thinking the same thing.

"I don't know. What _is_ that?" Dean responded, equally irritated.

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"It's not even the most effective way to kill someone-"

"Well, let's be happy about that," Dean put in.

"Yeah," Sam pointed to Dean, acknowledging the good point, "but, still. You'd think they'd go with something else that won't take like 2 to 3 _minutes_ to even get the person to pass out, much less die."

"Ghosts are stupid," Dean said with a small smile playing on his face.

"I mean, they are. They're stupid. And they _know_ it's not just me – they hit you back and then they go for my neck-? I mean, really? You recover and just hit them with rock salt and I'm not even passed out yet…"

"That's pretty much how it goes, yeah," Dean replied simply.

"It's not that I'm complaining. But it's ridiculous," Sam leaned back against the Impala's seatback.

Dean gave a slight chuckle at the conversation. Sam looked over and smiled too.

"I'm going to pass out – wake me up when you want to stop."

"'Kay," Dean replied. He looked over to see Sam reposition himself in the passenger seat.

"Hey – Why don't you sleep in the backseat?"

With closed eyes, Sam responded.

"I don't want to move."

Colds

Dean coughed into his sleeve as he drove the Impala, trying not to wake up his brother in the passenger seat. If he could, he would have coughed loudly – it was phlegmy, and he knew soon they'd have to stop so he could reach into the back seat and grab some tissue for his nose. As it was, he just wiped his face. With closed eyes, Sam spoke up suddenly in a low monotone.

"You're getting sick, aren't you?"

"No," Dean lied. Sam opened his eyes lightly, giving his brother a look. "S'just a head cold-"

Sam grunted and started stretching.

"Dean c'mon, really?"

"No, I - I'll get over it in _two _seconds-"

"No, you won't. You never do and you're gonna get me sick, now…" Sam whined playfully, leaning over the bench seat.

"That's not true, I-"

Sam handed Dean a roll of toilet paper from the back and reseated himself. Dean took the roll of toilet paper with one hand as he continued to drive with the other, and started unrolling a wad as he continued talking.

"I won't give it to you; we'll just make sure I don't cough on you …"

"Whatever. Here's some water," Sam sniffed, still waking up, and handing Dean an unopened bottle of water. Dean took it and leaned it against the seat next to him. "Now that's _your_ water bottle, now. Don't use any others, all right?" Sam said, determined to get this through his brother's head. Determined he wouldn't catch whatever Dean had.

"Fine."

"What about aspirin, you taken anything?"

Dean figured, now the cat was out of the bag, he might as well give up and let himself cough freely when the sensation overtook him to do so.

"Ah, Dean, that sounds terrible, man…" Sam leaned forward to get the aspirin out of the glove compartment. Dean finished his cough and breathed a bit better this time.

"S'not as bad as it sounds-" He replied, honestly, and saw Sam's hand holding out two aspirins. He moved his hand to take them from Sam's, but Sam immediately turned his hand over so he could drop the pills into his brother's hand.

"No! Don't!- Touch me…" Sam chuckled as he dropped the Aspirin into Dean's hand.

"Thanks," Dean replied, and popped them into his mouth. Sam had opened the water bottle and Dean took it to swallow the aspirin, handing it back to his brother to screw the top back on.

"You're pale and your eyes are glassy. You running a fever?"

"What are you, a doctor?"

"No," Sam replied dumbly. He had just woken up to his gross, sick brother: not feeling like bantering, he just wanted to know.

"No, no fever."

"Okay well, next motel, we stop, yeah?" Sam asked.

"Yeah okay."

_6 Hours Later_…

Sam woke up from his nap and immediately felt an unpleasant tickling sensation in the back of his throat. _I hate you, Dean…_ His eyes opened up to see Dean leaning back against the wall on his bed, flipping through tv channels and eating fries. Dean turned to look at Sam.

"Hey, you were out like a _light_," Dean said, impressed. Sam moved up to lean against the wall, mimicking his brother's position, groaning. He had a headache and rubbed his temples.

"Headache? You sick?"

Sam looked at Dean, staring daggers at him. Dean smiled. He got up, moved to the kitchenette table, and brought over a few things to the bedside table.

"Aspirin, toilet paper, bucket, water… And this cool stuff I got at the pharmacy a few hours ago…" Dean listed as he hovered over his brother and the nightstand, setting each item down. Sam squinted and reached for the last item Dean had mentioned.

"What is it?"

"I dunno. They work pretty well, tho-" Dean couldn't finish through the start of three roaring sneezes. Ignoring his brother's thunderous sneezes two feet above his head (and no longer caring about the transfer of germs), Sam took the bottle before Dean finished, read the fine print, and started opening the cap and pulling out the prescribed amount.

"Sorry," Dean muttered, sniffing a couple of times once he was done, and sat back down on his bed.

"_So_," Dean started, "We have got a Star Wars marathon, a Law & Order marathon, and Shawshank Redemption starting in a few minutes. What's your vote?"

Sam looked up from having taken a swig of water with the meds and looked at the rundown 12 inch tv facing their beds. He sighed.

"Let's do Star Wars. It'll last us awhile."

"Sounds good," Dean replied, changing the channel to the right network. "I'll throw a pizza into the oven, you hungry?"

"Yeah let's do that," Sam replied. Dean got up and went to open the frozen pizza in the freezer. His grocery run to pick up meds and supplies always included a couple of frozen pizzas when one of them was sick – primarily because both of them would eventually get sick… And no one wants to go online and try to figure out what nearby pizza place delivers at 2 am when you've woken up and can't get back to sleep. Dean got back onto his bed and Sam looked over at him.

"How're you feeling?"

Dean shrugged in answer.

"Better. I give it maybe 12 more hours."

"When'd you get symptoms?"

"Yesterday… Around 3."

"Okay so I'm on a… 27 hour delay from you…" Sam groaned and turned over to push his face into his pillow. "Shit…"

"You'll get better faster since we'll be staying in one place, though."

"Yeahh… Maybe," Sam acknowledged. The conversation died there, and Sam only heard Dean's slight movements and the television while his eyes were closed against the motel's pillow. A few minutes later, he heard the sound of the Star Wars score – the beginning of the film where the exposition narrative scrolls through space. He sighed, and turned around, and saw Dean grin at him.

"Which one is it?" Sam asked, squinting at the scroll to see if it could identify it just by reading the text.

"Return of the Jedi," Dean mumbled through a full mouth of fries.

"Oh I like this one," Sam murmured as he got himself comfortable. Dean smiled back at him.

"I know. The Ewoks, right?"

Sam smiled.

_Writer's Note: Thanks for reading! Let me know if this made you smile or cringe or laugh or sigh – Please comment/review! Cheers! ~ Alex Kerr_


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